Walking the Emmaus Road with Nobodies
One of the most fascinating stories in the New Testament is what happens on the road to Emmaus. After the resurrection, Jesus shows up to walk and talk with two disciples making their way from Jerusalem to Emmaus. Out of the forty days between resurrection and ascension, Jesus spends one of them simply walking, chatting, and eventually sharing a meal with these two travelers.
What’s curious is that we don’t really know who they are. One is named Cleopas—a name that appears nowhere else in the Gospels—and the other remains completely unnamed. Two disciples so unremarkable that they’ve escaped notice until now, and yet, they are given the gift of a whole day with the risen Christ.
Nobodies with Jesus
That’s kind of wild, isn’t it? We put so much energy into Christian celebrity, assuming that follower counts or book deals mean something in the kingdom of God. And yet Jesus chooses to spend one of his limited, resurrected days with two people we know almost nothing about.
It’s a good reminder that clout means less than nothing to God. Every so often when I’m reading the Gospels, I realize just how out of step my own priorities can be with those of Jesus—and I need that reset.
Clues from History
Still, there are some hints about these two. Over in John’s Gospel, at the crucifixion, we read about a man named Clopas. Standing near the cross were Mary (Jesus’ mother), her sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. Yes, apparently, if you were named Mary, you were already in the inner circle—just keep at it!
Tradition—both Eastern and Catholic—has long understood Clopas to be the brother of Joseph, Jesus’ adoptive father. That connection comes from the early church historian Eusebius, who quotes a second-century leader named Hegesippus. If that’s right, then Cleopas is actually Jesus’ uncle.
Which raises the possibility that the unnamed companion on the Emmaus road was Mary of Clopas—perhaps his wife, perhaps his daughter. Either way, that would make her part of Jesus’ extended family. Maybe even a cousin Jesus grew up with in Nazareth.
The Sacred Ordinary
So what’s the point of all this? Maybe it’s simply this: the Bible, like our own lives, is full of stories and relationships that would hardly merit a second glance from the outside. And yet, that’s where real life unfolds.
Not in what gets posted online, or in the moments we think are worth bragging about, but in everyday memories with family and friends—the uncles, cousins, and siblings who have shaped us in ways we may not even realize.
Maybe Jesus, in choosing to spend a day with his uncle and his cousin, is showing us something. That resurrection is not just about cosmic victory, but also about the quiet, ordinary spaces where love has already been at work.
What if life is happening right now—not in what we curate for others to see, but in the bike rides with our kids, in the summer trips with family, in the conversations we’ll never write down? Maybe the invitation is to slow down enough to notice.
Because sometimes resurrection looks like Jesus showing up, quietly, on a walk with those we never thought would matter all that much.
